Superiority Complex
by Diddlee
Summary: A dark, bitter, and angsty POV. Deals with mature subject matter.


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Disclaimer: This is a lot darker than what I usually write. I started this in the middle of the night and this is what resulted. (That's what happens when you're living on a total of 7 ½ hours of sleep in 4 days.) It has opened to mixed reviews. I tend to like dark, non-ordinary fics, which probably means that more than half of you will hate it. It's bitter and probably not true to the character we all have created in our minds. I think I was thinking in early GG mentality when writing this. I've traded the sap for crap. Let me know what you really think. 

One hour, forty-two minutes, and eighteen seconds. 

That had to be a record. Maybe not worthy of annotation in the next edition of Guinness, but at least in his own personal list of achievements. 

After all, national research showed that most men lasted about eight minutes before they were thinking it again.

But national research didn't take into account teenage, hormonal males, segregated from society and held in their own personal turmoil devoid of female interaction. And he was certain that the inhabitants of confines similar to his own fell somewhere in the two to three minute range. 

Because all seventeen year old boys think about sex. 

Think about it. Talk about it. Engage in it. Enjoy it. 

SEX. 

That little three letter word that can stir up controversy upon each utterance. The word that parents think their children aren't old enough to understand until they're physically capable of experimenting with it. And as such, typically avoid the topic in conversation, thinking that letting the word pass through their lips will bring on a flurry of erotic thoughts certain to send the youngster on a downward spiral of pornography and prostitution. 

So they go about their merry business, living in the fantasy world where kids are oblivious to biological urges and content to limit themselves to the occasional chaste kiss during a time of complete degradation and indiscretion. 

But not his parents. Far be it from his parents to keep him in the dark about such matters. 

He was six the first time he walked in on his parents having sex. After the initial shock of being caught by their young son, they came to the conclusion that he was old enough to understand the complexity and meaning behind the act. He heard "the talk" and at the ripe old age of six, he was the only first grader in the state of Connecticut to be sent home from school for sharing what "two people do when they love each other". 

Only his parents had lied. 

The trauma of catching his parents in the act was surpassed eight months later when he encountered the same situation, minus his father surreptitiously replaced by the neighbor from down the street. Away on business, and in hindsight likely partaking in similar pleasures with a woman other than his mother, his father was not present when his mother explained to him the physical urges and desires of the human condition. And how having sex with another person did not mean she was in love with him, nor did it negate the love she held for her husband. 

And thus, the two entities became entirely separate in his mind. 

There was love. And there was sex. One should be careful never to confuse one with the other. Or heaven forbid, believe the fallacy that he could have both at the same time.

So sex was sex. A physical activity devoid of any emotional attachment. A need to be taken care of whenever the mood was right or the opportunity presented itself. For connecting sex to girly emotions such as affection only increased the possibility of introducing other notions such as guilt and restraint. 

But sex was something else. It was a game. A power struggle between he and his conquest. A competition between he and his peers vying for the attention of any female that passed their way. An opportunity to rise above the others through the numbers and sheer selection of prey. It was a game he never lost. 

Because he was good at sex. 

Not that his intent ever strayed from the utmost goal of pleasuring himself first and foremost. For she did not matter. She was a random selection, one of any number of girls who could be in that position. She was easily replaceable. And giving her a false sense of worth only complicated the issue by letting her think she meant something to him. For girls were still stupid enough to believe that sex and affection were somehow tied to one another. 

And yet his selfish motives never hindered his ability to bed whoever he selected, whenever and wherever he wanted. A look her way was the only aphrodisiac she needed. Being alone in a room with him, able to touch his naked body was all the foreplay she would get. 

He had never had any complaints. Not that he would give two shits if she did. 

His father had been right. Sending him here was the worst possible punishment he could have dealt. But for different reasons than his father thought. He could handle the constant yelling of instructors and pompous military rejects placed in positions of authority. The physical requirements of pushups and obstacle courses were no challenge for his fit body. And the demanding coursework was a cakewalk compared to the advanced classes he left behind. But the isolation was killing him. 

There were people around. Ones he would even call friends from time to time. Yet they all shared the common denominator of a Y chromosome, thus eliminating them from the pool of subjects he needed most. 

He had been led to the water at a young age, allowed to partake in as frequently and at quantities he needed. Encouraged to return any time he was thirsty for it. And his confinement to all-male military school left an unsatisfyingly dry pond. 

He'd been here four months. One hundred and twenty days without a girl in the back seat of his car. Sixteen weeks without his latest toy trailing kisses along his jaw, his body pressing her against the locker, on of his hands up her shirt. 

In his world, abstinence was not an option. For calling it an option meant he had a choice in the matter. And the hell he was living in now was not self-induced. 

In a way, twisted though it may be, his banishment here had been a blessing. Pushed into seclusion, held against his will, he was not in charge of his own destiny. He was not allowed to invoke his own methods, or be forced to consider that his charms were not working on her. He would not accept the fact that she was the one who got away. The one who was out of his league. And worst of all, she knew it. He could still entertain the fantasy that had he been given more time, she would have caved to his advances. Because she was female, he was male, and that's the way the world goes round. 

As it was, she was still attainable. And his little stint in military school would be a nice breather to consider new tactics for getting her in his bed. Because whether she accepted it now or later, she would eventually understand that that's where they all ended up. 

Sex was a game unfamiliar to her world. And unbeknownst to her, she had kicked the game up a notch. She was immune to his good looks and popularity, thus bringing challenges to him not previously encountered. She was changing the rules and he was learning to adapt. He had to work harder and longer, sacrificing other opportunities because she remained so stubborn. Defeat was not an option and he had yet to raise the white flag. 

Perhaps he envied her a bit. Envied the innocence and naivety that had been ripped away from him so early. Envied her ability to truly care about someone other than herself and practice the concept of self-sacrifice for the betterment of a relationship. Envied her ability to have relationships based on something other than physical attraction. 

Or maybe he had been engaged in this mental strategy with her for so long she was screwing with his head. 

One thing was certain. Her presence made him question his own self worth. Her pure ways evoked feelings of guilt and shame over his previous actions. Feelings which were not acceptable to him. She had made him reconsider his views on love and sex. And possibly consider the consequences and joys of a life of blissful happiness. Only his mind was so rooted in their beliefs, he was unwilling to see fault in his logic. And these reasons only furthered his desire to knock her off her high horse and bring her to his level. 

That's all she was to him. A target which would be chased, conquered, and summarily crossed off his list of achievements. 

He'd be doing her a favor really. Waking her up from the dream inflicted on all girls at birth. Preventing her from living in a fantasy world of white weddings and Prince Charming. Saving her from that day she wakes up and realizes her life was spent being disappointed in the opposite sex. 

Because love is love and sex is sex. 

And the time had come for her highness to understand that love doesn't exist. 


End file.
